


They say you are my sun

by Lestradesexwife



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baby Names, Crack Treated Seriously, In-Universe RPF, M/M, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, possibly inaccurate, unnecessary descriptions of life as a bouncer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: So this is crack. But I needed some fluff after infinity war and this came to me and I cackled. It is kinda like that thing where the characters are real people but in a totally different universe. James & Sam are roomies-with-benefits. Sam has a job but I didn't ask what is was. James is a bouncer. Steve shows up. Face Claims for all three remain the same but they aren't Cap, Bucky and Falcon.





	They say you are my sun

“This has got to be a fake.” Jay pulled the UV flashlight out of his back pocket and clicked it on, running the blue light over the driver’s license in his hands. It lit up in all the right places, it was either real or a good enough fake that the fault wouldn’t be with him if they got raided.

The guy wavers between flustered and pissed off, clearly this is something that happens to him on the regular. “My dad is in the 107th. His kid gets born on July 4th, what else am I gonna get named?” The answer is wooden, worn and well used. Definitely more pissed off.

Jay waves him through, trying to look sympathetic but fundamentally disinterested, there is a whole line of people behind the guy and no reason to hold him up since he’s over 21. “Have a good night man.”

Once the line clears he moves to stand inside the door. The band tonight has a pretty solid following so there had been a line for the doors but once they cleared and packed inside there were only a few stragglers to deal with, and the night was damp and cool, early April rain during the day that eased off when the sun set but never dried off the streets. Jay actually liked the band, but he couldn’t see standing out in the damp just to hear them play. His left shoulder ached if he stood out in it for too long so he was content to move inside and lean his back against the wall.

More than once he startled newcomers, his all black “bouncer’s uniform” causing him to fade from notice in the darkened entry way and people only noticed him when he pushed off from the wall and said “ID please.” He wasn’t proud of it, but it never failed to make him grin, the girls who squealed when he magically appeared in front of weren’t very subtle about checking him out. 

It is a filthy dirty lie that bouncers get all the girls. Well the good ones don’t anyway, sure you are more likely to get groped by some inebrieated people at the end of the night when the lights come on. But those are the ones you have to put in a cab and send on their way. He’d worked at a couple places where the bouncers would get a lot of phone numbers. But it rarely came to anything, most people who came to bars didn’t actually live on the night shift like he did.

Jay didn’t mind, he’d settled in nicely at this club. The music was tolerable, the regulars didn’t cause trouble and the troublemakers didn’t come back. He adjusted the ear plug in his right ear, the music might be tolerable but it was still painfully loud… especially five nights a week for 8 hours. 

It was loud enough that he couldn’t hear the door open, only felt the gust of damp air. When he turned he was already clicking on the regular flashlight, shining the light on the floor to let whoever was coming in have some warning that he was there. He broke into a proper grin when he saw Sam, his roommate-with-benefits slid inside and spread his arms wide for a hug. “Hey man, they start yet?”

Jay clapped him on the back, pulling him close so he wouldn’t have to shout over the music on the loudspeakers. “Not yet, they are waiting on Jack I think. Fashionably late as per.”

Jay nodded at the girl taking cover at the door, Sam liked to joke about one of the perks of being with him was getting past the door with an extra 20 in his pocket. He’d make up for it at the bar though, with a little guilt pushing him into buying a round at last call so the band would make a decent cut. 

Jay slapped Sam on the ass as he headed inside and received a flirtatious grin over his shoulder from Sam. “Have fun, man!”

“You too!” Sam blew him a kiss as he passed over the threshold into the club proper.

And yeah that was rude, because bouncing was mostly _BORING._ Once the rush is over it was mostly standing around, doing occasional rounds through the club to make sure no one had snuck in through the back. Having an eidetic memory was good for picking people out of the crowd who shouldn’t be there but for the most part he was just holding up the wall. 

Jack showed up a few minutes later, accordion slung over his shoulder. 

Jay welcomed him with a grand gesture, reaching out to hold open the door so he could maneuver through. “Welcome, welcome! Sir, your humble fans await.”

Jack flipped him off and hurried in, slowing a bit when he hit the table with the girl taking cover to check and see how the night was going… and maybe to flirt a bit. 

Jay was a bit surprised that a dude who played the accordion could be such a big hit with the ladies but he had to admit the music was different and fun. Still loud and fast, something to dance to in a crowded club, but it also stirred at Jay’s Eastern European heart.

After that there were a couple breathless groupies, the “Are we late? Did we miss them?” crowd, the ones who didn’t get off work until just before the show started but wouldn’t miss it for the world. A couple of pre-drinkers who were warm and mellow but not drunk and had piled out of a cab so Jay didn’t have to worry about them as long as they paid their cover. He’d have to go and check the back door though, that type almost always had friends who were too cheap to drink OR pay cover waiting in the back alleyway for someone to let them in. 

One of the reasons Jay liked Jack and his band was that their fans weren’t the sort to cause trouble. They wanted to get a little buzzed and dance like lunatics and then go home and sleep it off. And Jack had a way with the crowd, weaving music around them like magic until everyone was breathless and happy, even when the songs were sad.

The night went by quickly, uneventful until Jay’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. The group text between him and the bartenders that last call had been declared and people would start to leave. This is where Jay really did have to work, one of Jack’s magic powers was the encore. The crowd was so wound up and entranced by him that Jay would have to turn on the lights, exposing the harsh edges of two AM before Jack would break the spell and everyone would start gathering their things and heading for their beds.

Jay propped open the door, letting in the chilly night air. He could almost see the warmth escaping from the club. The cool air waking him up and bringing him back to himself. Even with his ear plugs in he wasn’t immune to the magic of the music. He felt warm and happy, with a little zing in his blood even though all he’d had to drink all night was water. 

Twenty minutes later another text alert went off in his pocket and he pushed off from the wall for the last time, heading for the bank of light switches on the other side of the entryway. At one point they had been painted the same black as the walls, but the paint has flaked and come off in patches from the switches, rubbed down to the tacky beige of standard light fixtures everywhere.

He waited, because he can hear that Jack is winding down, and it is more dramatic and less likely to cause drama to wait until the last moment of the song and _then_ flip on the lights. Plus it will remind Jack that Jay is there and wants to go _home._

He times it just right. As the last notes of the song fade he flips all the lights at once and Jack takes his cue. “Thanks for coming out everyone! We’re back on the 12th!”

There’s still a sigh, a rush of “Aw! Boo! Encore!” But it fades out into the noise of people grabbing their coats and shifting towards the door. Jay helps the cover girl move her table out of the way to make the exit easier and leans against it, watching as people leave. The ones that leave first aren’t the ones he needs to worry about. They are all moving under their own power, flushed from dancing with only slightly tipsy. The street outside is busy enough for everyone to get cabs or Ubers. He watches a couple of designated drivers herding drunken cats with sympathy. 

Sam walks by, ignoring Jay in favour of chatting and stealing kisses from ‘definitely not a fake name or id.’ 

Jay hides a smile and ignores him right back. He won’t make it home for at least another half hour once he helps clean up and pries the last of the groupies out of the corners. He’ll probably grab a beer and shoot the shit a bit but he’s not going to hang out for too long. He’s tired and ready to not be vertical. 

When the main rush has passed Jay wanders into the club. The fluorescents make everything look mundane. The magic that Jack had spun can’t really hold up against that much light and sharp edges. There is only one really drunk drunk slumped over a table talking to their friend. And when Jay approaches the friend manages to pry them up off the table and push them towards the door. Everyone else is filtering out, leaving behind the band and their partners and spouses. The bartenders and waitstaff are already cleaning up and Jay goes around flipping chairs onto the empty tables, eyeing the last couple stragglers and hangers on surrounding the band. 

The next morning is a matter of opinion. Jay is on a permanent schedule, which is nice, even though his schedule is so far off everyone else’s that he is basically a hermit. Sam calls him a walking trope. Personal trainer by afternoon, bouncer by night. But it is Saturday he doesn’t do training clients on Saturday, so he sleeps in, not bothering to wake up until afternoon. He’d rolled over at one point earlier, hearing something that sounded fun coming from Sam’s room. He’d just groaned and put his pillow over his head, too sleepy to bother waking up and doing something about the hard-on the noise caused. 

Jay wandered into the common area of the apartment. Flannel sleep pants and no shirt, because Saturday. And it wasn’t anything Sam hadn’t seen before, and probably it was late enough that his company was gone. _And if he’s not then might as well show him what he’s missing._ Jay smirks, laughing at his own joke. In the kitchen he pours himself some OJ and puts some Eggos in the toaster.

When the toaster ejects them he grabs them by the edges to keep them from burning his hand and collapses onto the chair in the kitchen to wait for the coffee pot to finish brewing. 

Apparently Sam’s companion hasn’t left yet because he stumbles out of Sam’s room. Dressed in last night’s clothes and only slightly rumpled. Jay shakes his head and sighs. _Sam is letting himself go._

The guy stops, doing a quick double take at Jay and then looking back into Sam’s room.

“Relax, I didn’t follow you home… or… Anyway I live here too. Coffee’s on if you want, and we got Eggos.”

Sam follows in the guys wake. Jay decides it is probably weird not to use his name but it is just… bizarre. Not weird that Sam would have picked him up but Jay is having a hard time processing.

“Gross, use a plate Jay.” Sam makes a face as he gives Jay a once over on his way to the kitchen.

Jay smiles and shoves the last of the waffle into his mouth, chewing sloppily. “Then I gotta _wash_ it!”

“ **James Buchanan!** You did not take the last of the orange juice and put it back empty!” Sam hold up the empty carton and mock tosses it at Jay’s head.

Steven Grant Rogers born July 4th 1991 turns pale and then red, his fists clenching in anger. “Are you making fun of me?”

Sam looks confused. “Why? Did you drink all the juice?”

Jay holds up a hand, trying to appease Steve. “It is really my name. Hold on. I’ll show you.” He pushes up from his chair and heads for the front door, his wallet in the pocket of his leather jacket.

On his way back he slides his ID out of the sleeve that holds it and hands it over to Steve, along with the UV flashlight to prove it is real. “My family are actually cousins… of his… but I was born before we knew.” Steve takes the card but doesn’t actually look at it staring at Jay’s face. “His dad and my grandfather are _brothers?_ ” Jay waggles his hand, he’d never been big on family history even when it came back to life and blew up some shit.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes? And you are related to _him_?” Steve looks down and hands back Jay’s ID.

“Yup.” Jay slides the card back into his wallet and drops it on the kitchen table. “You related to _him_?”

Steve shakes it off and makes a dismissive noise. “Nah, my dad is _really_ into military history. And he already had Rogers so when Cap got thawed out and… I mean I was born on the Fourth.”

Sam is looking at them like they have started speaking Russian. “Wait. What?”

Steve squares up his shoulders and offers Sam his hand. “Steven Grant Rogers, no relation. Pleasure to meet you.” His grin is wicked and he’s looking up all faux shy like he hadn’t been fucking/fucked into the mattress of Sam’s bed all night and half the morning.

Sam takes his hand and shakes it, all the while gaping at Jay like a landed fish. “Dude, what?”

Jay laughs, throwing back his head and clutching his chest. “Man, you have a _type!_ ”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “You two?”

“FWB, man. But you should have seen the look on his face when he found out my full name. I go by Jay, by the way. You don’t even know the best part yet.”

“Nah… hell nah, man. That’s coincidence! Mine’s a very common name!” Sam turned away and brought down three coffee cups and placed them on the counter. Jay laughs again and grabs him by the elbow, pointing him back at Steve.

Jay straightened, putting on a serious face. “Steven Grant Rogers, no relation. May I introduce Samuel Leroy Wilson. Also no relation.”

Steve’s mouth falls open and he stares at Sam. 

“Dammit, Barnes! You _know_ my mamma named me after Samuel L. Jackson.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry it is so silly i couldn't help myself I hope you enjoy it and have fun. This hasn't been beta'd or even proof read because i like to live dangerous so if i fucked up please let me know.
> 
> I'm a dork with a tumblr http://lexxxwasniahc.tumblr.com/


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